It’s that time of year again where we find ourselves torn between focusing on the true meaning of Christmas and getting caught up in the pleasures of the secular side of things. As years pass by I, like a lot of folks my age, find myself reflecting more on the spiritual and less on the material parts of the season.

But for just a few minutes I would like to think back on the years when I was young – the times when lines were easily blurred and I anticipated Christmas with both expectation and guilt.

It was guilt that I hardly had any money to purchase the kinds of gifts I really wanted to give to those I loved and fear that what I was able to purchase would be reflected in their eyes as disappointment. Seldom did the ones I cared about reflect disappointment, even if the gift was something I had made myself.

Somehow, I knew at an early age to not expect too much. I don’t know if I have always just appreciated whatever came my way, or if, in fact, I just built up a wall of defense to protect my feelings.

I remember our family driving all the way down to Jackson, Mississippi to visit the Sears store for some of our Christmas shopping on those years when the cotton crop was better than expected. While my parents would shop I would walk around the store looking at all the possible things I might find under the tree on Christmas morning.

Socks, underwear, a shirt and maybe a pair of jeans were the norm. But I didn’t roam around the store looking at those things. I was looking at toys, bikes and such.

I hesitate to mention it, but one year when I was very young a Betsy Wetsy was beneath the tree much to my father angst. My mother had wanted her third child to be a girl. After that came the years of Roy Rogers’s pistols and holster sets – another year I found a Daisy BB gun – then there was the year of the .22 single shot Sears rifle, and one year I found a genuine leather football. I know it was genuine leather because those words meant a lot and were imprinted right there beneath the stitching.

Those were some of the best years of my childhood. The years when my grandmother, parents and brothers sat around the cedar tree together on Christmas Eve. Then came the years when one by one there was someone missing. They were the awkward years when we knew someone was celebrating Christmas in heaven, but they were terribly missed from our midst. I suppose that was when Christmas’s focus became less and less about the things found beneath the tree, and things we discovered in our hearts.

Okay. I’ve gotten that off my chest. Now I want you to do me a favor. Think back to your own past Christmases.

1. Was there thatone present that you received that still resonates in your memory?
2. Was there that one thing you had your heart set on that has yet to be found beneath the tree?
3. Lastly, was there ever that one gift you gave that was a real joy to give, or that was a real sacrifice to purchase?

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Rick Algood
December 13, 2015